Lost Boy
by realismandromance
Summary: Three times, Jack Frost meets Peter Pan. Once as a ten-year-old boy, once as a lonely winter spirit and once as the Guardian of Fun. Each time, Peter makes an offer, but Jack never says yes. [Canon Compliant]


_A/N: Another story that has existed since January, but which I only finished recently. This is strictly based off the **Rise of the Guardians** movie and the book version of **Peter Pan**._

* * *

I.

The tiny attic bedroom was stifling. Ten-year-old Jack tossed his thin blanket aside and sat up, cross-legged, in bed. On the other side of the room, by the glimmer of moonlight peeping through a gap in the window shutters, he could make out the shadow of his little sister, sleeping in her trundle bed. One arm was flopped out over the edge.

How could she _sleep_? Jack marvelled. The heat made him feel so wide awake that joining her in dreamland that night seemed impossible. He slid off his bed, careful not to make a sound, and tiptoed across the floorboards to the large, rectangular window, where he eased the shutters open slowly, muffling the noise as much as he could. His sister stirred but did not wake. Her round forehead glistened with the sheen of sweat.

Having opened the window at last, Jack rested his arms on the low sill and leant out. The outdoor air was only marginally cooler, but at least there was a small breeze. He glanced back at his sister. Her blanket had slipped onto the floor. He stepped over, light-footed as a cat, and gently pulled it back over her small body. Her breathing hitched slightly.

'Shh, Polly,' Jack whispered, turning back to the window.

Instantly, he narrowly escaped letting out a yell of surprise and therefore ruining the work of the moments earlier. But he had every right to be shocked, for there was a small boy perched on the windowsill, dressed in leaves and peering at him intently. A spark of energy, with a sound like tiny tinkling bells, hovered by the boy's elbow, then ducked out of sight.

It did not occur to Jack to be frightened. He simply stood and stared.

'Hello!' said the boy. 'What's your name?'

Jack found his tongue.

'Jack,' he said, keeping his voice low. 'What's yours? I haven't seen –'

'Peter Pan,' the boy answered proudly. He pointed to Jack's sister. 'Who's that?'

'Polly. My sister.'

'A girl?' Peter sprang off the windowsill, soared impossibly through the air and landed next to Polly's bed. He peered at her as one might stare at an exhibit in a museum, then stepped back, tossing his head. Beside him, the spark spun and flitted about.

'She's too small,' he said at last.

'Too small for what?'

But Peter was already distracted. He flew back onto the windowsill and faced Jack.

'D'you want to come with me?'

Jack's heart thudded inside his ribs.

'To where?'

'My home. Neverland.' He pointed into the starry night sky. 'Out there.'

'What's it like?'

'The nicest place you'll ever go,' said Peter, with relish. 'There are Indians –'

'There are Indians here.' Jack was unimpressed.

'And pirates, and other boys. I'll teach you how to fly there. And you'll never have to grow up.'

Jack frowned, drawing back. He gestured to his sister, still sound asleep in bed. 'What about her?'

'Leave her behind.' Peter's tone was light, careless. 'She didn't wake, so she won't miss you.'

Jack hesitated.

'Come _on_ ,' said Peter, his voice suddenly cold.

'When will I come back, though?'

'You won't. You'll stay always a boy and have fun.'

'No, thanks,' said Jack firmly. 'I'd rather stay right here where I can keep an eye on her. She's still small.'

'So?'

'I've always looked out for her. I can't stop now.'

That seemed to do it for Peter. He flew up into the air tauntingly, touching the window's edge like a bird on the verge of escaping its cage.

'You'll get too old,' he declared. 'I shan't come back.'

'Wait!' cried Jack, unable to articulate why he wanted Peter to wait, but the bird had already flown.

* * *

II.

He was undoubtedly a child, but it was impossible to pinpoint his age. He had a disarming smile and a light-footed gait; however, the most entrancing thing about him was that he had all his first teeth.

'Who are you?' asked Jack, balancing on the tip of his staff without second thought.

The small figure grinned widely. 'A boy.'

All right, thought Jack, a game. Anything to break the loneliness, anything for a bit of fun was all right in his book. 'A nice boy?'

'No!'

'A naughty boy?'

This smile was almost too satisfied. 'Yes.'

'Where did you come from?'

'Where did _you_ come from?' the boy countered, apparently thinking himself extraordinarily witty.

'I've always been here,' said Jack. 'For two hundred years, at least.'

'What's your name?'

'Jack Frost. At least,' he added, turning away slightly, 'that's what the Moon told me.'

'The moon doesn't _tell_ you things,' said the other scornfully. 'It's a place you can go. I went there once, but it's not much to see.'

Biting back a retort, Jack asked, 'Where are _you_ from, then?'

'Neverland' – this was said with more than a hint of pride. The boy pointed up into the sky; Jack followed his gaze. 'Second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning.'

'But it isn't night,' said Jack.

'That doesn't matter. Do you want to come?'

'To Neverland?'

'Yes.'

'What's it like?'

'A story,' said the boy proudly. 'Pirates and mermaids and caves and Indians and exploring. And there's Captain Hook, the leader of the pirates, who's only afraid of the crocodile who ate his hand once. Only Peter Pan is allowed to fight him.'

'That's you,' Jack guessed, seeing the boyish arrogance in the other's eyes.

'Yes.'

'Does he have a hook for a hand?'

'Yes,' said Peter. 'You should come! It's lots of fun.'

'You don't think me too old?' Jack asked warily; where that notion had come from, he could not say.

Peter looked bewildered for a moment, then reiterated, 'Come! It's a place where you'll never have to grow up.'

Jack thought of his ability to make ice and snow, of the lonely desperation born from the two hundred years of isolation he had endured, and of his own everlasting childhood. But then he thought of the Man in the Moon, who had given him a second chance, and he said, feeling almost as if he might regret this decision, 'No, thanks.'

* * *

III.

Two weeks after Jack's appointment as the newest Guardian, he met Peter Pan again. This time, Jack had slipped inside Jamie Bennett's bedroom via the window to leave a birthday present when he heard a vaguely familiar sound of tiny bells behind him. He spun around and saw a small figure in the window, roughly silhouetted by the distant glow from a street light.

'What –?'

Jack grabbed Jamie's electric torch from the nightstand, flicked it on and cautiously pointed it just below the window, so as not to blind whoever it was. In the eerie lighting, he could barely make out the figure of Peter Pan. Sighing with relief, he put the torch back and moved closer to the window.

'You're Peter Pan, aren't you?'

Peter looked suspicious.

'I remember, even if you don't,' said Jack softly, so as not to wake Jamie. 'A long time ago, you asked me to go with you to Neverland.'

'I don't want _you_ ,' said Peter. 'I came for him' – he pointed at Jamie – 'but he's asleep.'

Jack looked around the bedroom, saw the sketches of North and Bunny and the other Guardians, saw the books on Bigfoot and dragons and other fantastical creatures, and he caught his breath because he felt sure that Jamie was the kind of child who would most be tempted by Peter's offer.

'You can't have him, Peter,' he said. 'He belongs here.'

Peter scowled. He, too, had seen the pictures on the walls.

'I'll come back when you're not here,' he said defiantly.

'You'll be wasting your time. He won't go with you.' Jack tried to keep his voice neutral, but it was at fierce odds with the emotionally charged thoughts rushing through him.

 _If Jamie grows up, he might stop believing in you._

 _If Jamie goes away with Peter, you might never see him again._

 _If Peter comes back when you're not here, will Jamie really be tempted enough to go to Neverland?_

Peter, with a last, disparaging glance at Jack, sprang off the windowsill and gazed at Jamie for a moment, as if committing him to memory. Then he made to fly away.

'Peter, wait!' Jack flew out the window after Peter. Surprisingly, Peter did slow down, albeit unwillingly.

'You could stay here with me,' Jack said. 'Bring Neverland here. Don't take kids away from their troubles. Help them learn how to face them.'

But for all that Peter comprehended, Jack might have spoken in another language. At last Peter settled for, 'Who are you?'

'Me?' Jack smiled, though it was bittersweet. 'I'm a Guardian.'

* * *

'Tooth! Hey, Tooth!'

'Jack! What is it? I'm very busy right now, you know.'

'You're always busy,' Jack said easily, coming to perch on his staff beside her. 'What I wanted to say was, you have the teeth of every kid in the world, right? Or, you'll get them eventually. So, you have access to so many memories.'

'Well ... yes and no.' Tooth sighed. 'Almost every child, Jack.'

'Almost?'

'All children, except one, grow up. Peter Pan.'

'Peter Pan?' Jack repeated. Tooth mistook his surprised tone for confusion.

'My fairies catch a glimpse of him sometimes, but I've only ever seen him in the children's memories.'

'Is he a spirit?'

Tooth sighed. 'I don't know. Because he doesn't age, he'll never lose his baby teeth. I'll never get his memories, so I don't know much about him at all. He's a boy from another world.'

'Neverland,' Jack murmured. Tooth looked startled.

'You've spoken with him?'

'A couple of times.' Jack hesitated, then took the plunge. 'Hey, Tooth, if he doesn't grow up … then what's the difference between him and, say, someone like me?'

'It's not physical age that makes a child, Jack. It's life experiences, and you've got plenty of those. But Peter Pan is another story. He has the retention and capabilities of someone who can never learn much more than he knows right now. You make such a good Guardian because you'll never lose your sense of fun. But, for Peter, that's all he has.'

'I saw him in Jamie's window last night.'

'You did? Did you talk to him?'

'He wanted –' Jack stopped, made himself start over without the tiny catch in his voice. 'He wanted to take Jamie to Neverland.'

'Oh, Jack …'

Jack wanted to turn away. He did not think he could bear if Tooth pulled out her well-meaning pity.

But Tooth said, 'Jack, can't you see how Jamie adores you? Thanks to you, he knows there are far worse things to be afraid of than growing up.'

'But Pitch …'

'What _about_ Pitch? Without growing and learning, childhood has no meaning. But it shapes the kind of person you become. That's our role as Guardians – we're here to protect childhoods, but we know that children must grow up. But,' Tooth added, her voice softening, 'belief is different. When it has a powerful foundation, it can last a lifetime. You of all people should know that Jamie wouldn't leave his life here behind for Neverland.'

Jack nodded, starting to grin. His heart felt a whole lot lighter.

'Now, let me get back to my work!' Tooth poked Jack lightly. 'There are more kids losing teeth by the minute, and I think Burgess might be due for a snow day.'

* * *

 _A/N: Regarding Jack's sister, who is unnamed in the movie: I know a common name suggestion is Mary, because of William Joyce's daughter who contributed to the formation of his Guardians books (and has sadly passed away), and I think it's a great choice, but I've never read the books and am writing solely about the movie characters. So, I've called her Polly in this story – Polly being an old-fashioned nickname for Mary._


End file.
